A DEAFENING SILENCE
by Ann3
Summary: In the first in a series of stories, following on from Fountain of Youth, Sydney contemplates the unthinkable...


A DEAFENING SILENCE

Written by Ann Rivers ann.rivers@virgin.net

Summary : Sydney contemplates the consequences of leaving Nigel in Seville…

Spoilers: Fountain of Youth

Disclaimer: Relic Hunter and its character belong to CanWest and Fireworks Productions.

I'm just borrowing them for a while to redress some issues for Nigel…

It was ironic that the silence from the seat beside her should be speaking such worrying volumes. Her only consolation, if you could call it that, was that his dreams were sparing him further hurt.

Watching Nigel sleep, genuinely or otherwise, Sydney then sighed in mounting frustration.What a difference, she thought ruefully, to when they'd flown out to Seville just a few days earlier, in happy anticipation for what should have been Nigel's finest academic hour.

Then he'd spent almost the entire flight excitedly planning his schedules for their upcoming seminar, painstakingly scribbling down notes for the speeches he'd been looking forward so eagerly to give.

Instead, in another cruel twist of irony, he'd spared his brother from a painfully splintered nose. To add insult to injury, his eagerly awaited seminar had lurched from one disaster to another. And finally, perhaps most significantly, the one person he'd needed to support and reassure him had instead jaunted off on a hunt in favour of his insufferable brother.

Little wonder, then, that Nigel had been even quieter than usual as they'd driven back to London – his stiffly terse farewell to Preston in marked contrast to what she'd expect to see amongst brothers.

Except the relationship between the brothers Bailey was hardly what you'd call normal, Syd mused, glancing once more towards her still unsettlingly quiet companion. When it came to sibling rivalry, those two took the concept of brotherly competition to a whole new level.

She knew from past experience of watching them how hard Nigel had worked to prove himself. What a struggle it had been to make his mark alongside Preston's far more publicised achievements.

He'd never had to prove himself to her, of course. But at the moment, after missing his seminar, Sydney couldn't be sure that Nigel still believed just how invaluable he was to her.

She'd tried to talk to him, to coax him into clearing still distinctly chilly air between them. But Nigel had remained silent, choosing instead to retreat behind clearly genuine exhaustion. When he had spoken, so very quietly, it had been only to wearily resist her attempts to get him to talk.

"Look, Syd, it's been a real pig of a few days, and right now I – I just really want to sleep… okay…?"

Left with very little way in the way of reply or argument, Sydney had grudgingly left him to it.

That he needed sleep was obvious – as was the hurt which continued to simmer quietly behind it.

Relieved at least that he now appeared to be genuinely sleeping, Syd gently brushed back his fringe – 

her frown deepening at sight of the cuts and bruising which still marred that genteelly handsome face.

Having suffered her own share of battered noses, she knew how much the injury had hurt him. But that was nothing compared to what she'd seen when she'd chosen Preston's needs over his – the pain and dismay in his eyes as he'd pleaded for her to change her mind.

Perhaps inevitably, that hurt had given way to an anger which had again been betrayed by his eyes – an anger too deep to qualify as one of 'Podge's little spats' as Preston had so condescendingly put it.

No, she'd seen Nigel sulk before. And until now she'd always managed to sweet talk him out of it.

Not this time, though. Since leaving the Cotswolds, he'd been oddly but understandably subdued – their usual bantering argument over who bagged the window seat for the flight back to Boston settled without a word being spoken.

And watching him stare fixedly outside while the sprawl of Heathrow retreated rapidly beneath them, Sydney had uneasily wondered what thoughts lay beyond that stony, impenetrable silence.

Putting several thousand miles of ocean between himself and Preston was all well and good. And the way Nigel felt right now about his brother, it was certainly the best thing he could do.

But there'd been a rare sadness in his eyes as he'd watched his homeland vanish beneath the clouds. A real yearning that, given the choice between that and what awaited him in his adoptive home, he'd much rather have stayed behind in the country which he cherished so much.

Suddenly his wistful plea for 'just a nice, quiet little teaching job' took on a whole new meaning. Sydney knew that someone of Nigel's intelligence and education would be welcome anywhere. Indeed, she'd already had to fend off several rival colleges who'd expressed interest in her TA. Offers which her young assistant had been typically flattered to receive but honour bound to reject.

But if he were to receive such a tempting offer now…

__

Relax, Sydney, _you're overreacting here, big time… _she told herself, rubbing tiredly at her eyes. _Yes, he's tired and he's upset…but no, there's no way that he's going to resign over this…_

She was still trying to convince herself of her own reassurance when she felt movement beside her. Stirring in his sleep, Nigel sighed drowsily for a moment, frowning through the events of his dreams. 

Sydney frowned too, her imagination again running riot over what those subconscious thoughts were. What catastrophic result they might be leading to…

As he settled again, Sydney became aware that hers wasn't the only concerned attention towards him. 

The senior cabin attendant, so appropriately named Randy, was hovering watchfully at her elbow, beaming back at her with an overly rehearsed smile.

"Hello again…!" she greeted brightly, turning her not entirely professional attentions towards Nigel. "Would your friend like another blanket so that he doesn't get cold…? Or maybe another pillow…?"

At any other time, Sydney would have smiled at Nigel's unfailing ability to attract adoring females, whether of his own age or, in catty afterthought in Randy's case, women old enough to be his mother.

Now though, tired, furious with herself, and with the loss of her treasured TA a real possibility, Sydney was in no mood for cradle snatching stewardesses getting their manicured mitts on her Nigel.

Evidently used to the 'Back off, sister, he's mine…' glare from other equally frosty wives and lovers, Randy took her trolley and mega-kilowatt smile in search of other, less fiercely protected prey.

That threat may have been over, but Sydney's eyes remained troubled as they settled back on Nigel.

What wouldn't she give right now to see him awake, smiling that adorably shy grin back at her – the chance to tease him over yet another addition to the Nigel Bailey Admiration Society. 

But no. Nigel was still asleep. No more than a few inches away, yet an untold distance from her.

Distance of another kind now struck her as Sydney stared past her TA into a dark and rainy sky. Behind them lay the charms of England… below them stretched the vast expanse of the Atlantic. Ahead lay Trinity College – and a lot of awkward questions over the future of Nigel Bailey.

And now, on top of everything else, they were hitting the turbulence of a preceding storm.

Out of pure habit, Sydney reached to place a protectively calming hand on Nigel's nearest arm – ruefully grateful that, in sleep at least, he could accept her gesture of reassuring comfort.

Oblivious to the murmurs of suddenly nervous passengers, Nigel slept soundly and peacefully on.

Hand still resting on his arm, Sydney closed her eyes and tried to settle herself into her own dreams – no mean feat as the plane began to shudder through the latest waves of turbulence. Resigning herself to what looked set to be a rollercoaster flight across the Atlantic, Sydney sighed. Opening her eyes again, she fished out a well thumbed copy of National Geographic from her bag, wishing she could fully appreciate the lead article on the latest discoveries from tomb KV5.

But concentration, along with rest and peace of mind, continued to falter behind her conscience. Nigel was justifiably spitting mad with her. Her stomach currently felt like a plate of wobbling jelly. And, denied Nigel's friendly companionship, suddenly it seemed a hell of a long way to Boston…


End file.
